


just come back home to me

by withagun



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just an excuse to have clint and nat happy for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withagun/pseuds/withagun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's been away for a while. He and Nat have a lot of catching up to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just come back home to me

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lot of smut. Readers, ye be warned!

He fumbles a little at the door-knob, fingers stiff from hours of drawing his bowstring, and strips off one tac glove before finally managing to open the door. She looks up from her book and rises to greet him as he kicks off the heavy combat boots and throws both gloves in the direction of his gear shelf.  
Her kiss, warm, deep, and promising, is eagerly returned. He shoves both arms out of the bulletproof vest and begins to unbuckle straps on his tac shirt, while she turns to the fridge to microwave a bowl of some leftovers.  
He eats contentedly, one hand holding hers, thumb stroking the side of her hand gently.  
     'MREs have nothing on your food,' he tells her honestly, and gets a light smack across the shoulder.  
     'My cooking is far superior, I'll have you remember. You shouldn't even be thinking about them.'  
     'No, unless you're Coulson. I swear he likes the damn things.'

He resumes eating.  
     ‘I missed you out there. No snark in my ear, no fancy dress or super-tight suit I could ogle, no lovely wife to despoil when the mission was over.’  
Her hand slides up his wrist, one finger tracing well-defined flexors. He stiffens slightly, then loads his fork and shoves the food in, scraping the bowl quickly. As she continues to run one hand along his triceps, the other starts at his knee, with the most maddening gentleness.  
     ‘Nat,' he warns, and she moves her hand higher to his thigh. He shoves the last bite into his mouth and swallows as she glides her hand inward. Light fingers slide along the folded edge of his crotch and he turns to face her, hands reaching to trace her shoulders and sweep down her arms.  
She moves too quickly for him, slipping out of reach, eyes gleaming. He's out of his seat and in pursuit in a moment, but neither have much patience for games at the moment. He was on assignment for more than a month without her. They've waited long enough.

She's mostly naked by the time he reaches their bedroom, discarded clothing in her wake, but he's not long in joining her, hands sliding into blood-red hair as they kiss, giving and taking in measure.  
His hands follow their own paths, cupping her face, tracing the veins in her neck, sliding along collarbones, pushing gently until she lets herself fall back onto the bed. One archer-callused finger circles her nipple while he kisses his way down her belly. She makes an appreciative noise, sliding a hand into his hair until he moves to mouth along her thigh.  
     ‘Tease.’  
     ‘Always.’  
She moves a hand to satisfy herself, but he catches her wrist and slides his fingers between hers. She sighs, giving in, and brings her other hand to rub gentle circles around the areola of her breast as he kisses the crease between thigh and groin, not nearly close enough for her taste.  
     ‘ Either stop teasing or get up here and let me kiss you.’  
He huffs a laugh and moves finally, finally, to where she wants, tongue sweeping down the inside of her labia. After the build-up, she can’t help the moan and knows he’s grinning even as his tongue begins to move in earnest.

Before long the sensations make her buck into his mouth, even past the weight of his torso pinning her legs. He brings a hand up to crook clever fingers into her vagina, finding the g-spot, while his tongue flicks rapidly over her clitorus until she outright screams, arching off the bed.

She collapses, panting, and he crawls back up to kiss her.  
     ‘Fuck, I missed you,’ he murmurs. She can taste herself in his mouth and smiles against his lips.  
     ‘Fuck me, then,’ she says, and circles her hips, nudging his penis. He bites off a curse as she brings her legs up and it slips into her, biting his lip and thinking hard of tennis until the urge to come immediately abates.

He tries to set a slow rhythm but she won’t have it, moving with him and swiveling her hips so that the head of his penis catches her g-spot. It doesn’t take much for him to cry out, catch her shoulders and pull her up, fucking into her, swearing in at least five languages.  
He comes with a groan, dropping his head onto her shoulder and trying to catch his breath as she continues to fuck herself on him, rubbing her clitorus with the hand she’s not using to prop herself up. His own hand joins her and she yowls, muscles clenching tightly.

They fall back to the pillows, breathing hard and laughing, fingers tangled together.  
     ‘God, I missed you.’


End file.
